Obituary
by Carnicirthial
Summary: An andecote about Indiana's relationship with his father, as told by his adoptivegreatnieceinlaw, which seems to reveal a bit about those mysterious ravens. Companion piece to An Unlikely Reunion, teaser for next companion piece Secret inside
1. Obituary

Well this blows, the little line button won't work! Alright, this is a companion piece to my other Indiana Jones fic "An unlikely reunion" It's pretty good, not to toot my own horn, but incase you haven't read it and don't want to, even tho i suggest it, all you need to know is that Indiana and Millenium met in Jerusalem shortly after Raiders takes place. Millenium is a Dr. of archeology too, and she'd just found the Plates of Solomon (you have to go read the other fic to understand that part). At the top of eack plate is an engraved raven, and at the end you realize that not only is she being followed by some pysdo-opus-dae (sp?) monks, but she's also being tailed by ravens! Oh no!

So, other than that, this fic is going to be little bitty andecotes about Indiana's life and his relationships with other characters from the movies. And if it just so happens this little andecotes revolve around a mysterious cult and Armegedon... well, who knows? So, sit back, relax, and be patient, it'll get good soon!

(Insert break here)

"Umm, excuse me ma'am." So this was his reward for coming all the way out here to the boonies of New York. He spent the research hours trying to find any relations to the late Dr. Jones and all he could find was this lady. And she couldn't hear him over the roar of the lawn mower. Actually, it was probably the head phones, which he noticed as she turned the machine toward him. She didn't see him, though, because her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground. He didn't make another pass for her attention, though, because he fully realized that she was mowing the lawn in jean shorts and a bikini top. Well, might as well get a tan, huh?

She stopped dead and jumped about a foot in the air all of the sudden, scaring the living daylights out of him. She punched the stop button on the device in her pocket, and stared intently at a spot on the lawn. He noticed a small garter snake, no more than eight inches long. She was quivering.

"Umm, are you Mrs. Vander?" She jumped again at his voice, but stilled when she saw him. He was still a college student, though he was well into getting his doctorate. He was probably a year younger than her at most.

"Who are you?" She looked him up and down, trying to recognize this person that obviously knew her.

"My name is Henry Auburn, I called about an interview?" He wasn't particularly new at this, but attempting to have a business conversation with a woman with very little on her top half was extremely distracting… and she knew it.

She nodded and her gaze snapped back to the snake, then to the idling lawn mower. "You can have your interview as soon as you run that snake over."

Henry stood stock still. "What?"

"Mow over the snake and you can have your stinking interview." She pointed to the snake for emphasis.

"Oh. A-alright." He leapt over the fence and gave the snake wide berth so as not to scare it off, and came to her side of the mower. "Alright, press the yellow button and throw the bar forward to start the blades," she explained, guiding his hands. He was dangerously aware of the bikini. "Then you throw this bar forward to make it go. Keep it over the snake for a second or so to make sure it doesn't get away." She stepped back expectantly.

Henry shook his head and threw the indicated bar forward, then released it when the machine overtook the fleeing snake. He waited a moment, then pulled the mower back. He was gratified with the sight of a snake head about a foot to his right with a nub of the spine still attached. Mrs. Vander cackled and switched the machine off. She picked up a pair of gloves and then disposed as many pieces of the dismembered snake in a black trash bag, that from a quick glance had more severed snake pieces in it, a lot of which looked like they were rotting. She looked extremely pleased with herself as she pulled off the gloves and marched to the deck, taking care to stay where she'd already mowed. Unsure of what to do, Henry followed, noting that the trimming job with the weed whacker had butchered the lawn, and probably a couple more snakes.

She pulled on an old polo as she mounted the steps and motioned for Henry to take a seat under the awning, which looked freshly constructed. She disappeared inside for a moment, then returned with two bottled waters and planted herself across the small table from him. "Okay, shoot."

He was totally thrown off by her direct nature. Trying to stick to decorum, he made small talk. "So, you don't like snakes, I gather?"

She snapped her water open. "A trait inherited from Uncle Indy."

"Who?"

"Dr. Indiana Jones. The reason you're here? You said something about an obituary, but we both know that's bullshit."

Henry wasn't used to women who'd recently lost a husband and a great uncle in the recent weeks being so callous. "I didn't think Dr. Jones had any family other than his father."

"Who passed away little more than a year before him, yes. He and my husband's great aunt were married shortly after 'his last great archeological find.'" She was being defensive; he could tell.

"How long did you know your husband?" Take that, there's a question you weren't expecting!

She was indeed caught off guard. Perhaps she was grieving. "We went to school together from a young age."

"So you were friends long before you were married, then?"

"Yes, that's right." Her eyes softened.

Anyway, back on topic. "So I guess he introduced you to Dr. Jones."

She leaned back in her chair. "Mr. Auburn, which relic is it that you want information on? I really have no wish to make small talk about such an amazing man as if he has been dead ten years instead of days."

He was stung by her tone. "Ma'am, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm doing my doctoral thesis on Dr. Jones. I'm not looking for any specific information."

She was clenching her water bottle so tight that the drink sloshed out over the top. "I don't want to talk about him."

Henry stared at her. He'd gone through such effort to get this far, to actually interview someone who was closely related to Dr. Jones. And she wouldn't even have the decency to tell him anything. He stared at her for a whole, stony, cold minute, then picked himself up and walked down the stairs and toward the gate.

"Did you say your name was Henry?" She called out as he was opening the gate.

He turned around and nodded.

"Come back next week." She plugged the earphones in and started up the motor again.

(Insert break here)

Next Saturday Henry Auburn came back, and again he had to go around to the back to find her. This time she was staring down another snake with the weed whacker, Henry waved from the side of the fence, then shouted. Again she jumped, but when she saw who it was she motioned him over. Without a word she handed him the weed whacker and pointed smugly at the snake. He tried to protest but she walked off. He sighed and spent a few minutes chasing the snake with the weed whacker, making several good dents in the lawn.

"Good one, Henry." She laughed, but it was forced friendliness.

He sighed. He didn't like anything remotely physical, including snake killing. "Can I have my interview now, please?"

She nodded, and took her seat under the new awning. "What do you want to know?"

Henry plopped down and gratefully took the water bottle she offered. "Well… I've never heard much about his relationship with his father."

He must have said the right thing, because she laughed for real that time.

"Junior."

Indy ignored his father.

"Junior."

He concentrated on counting the sand on his saddle.

"Junior."

Come on, Dad, it won't kill you.

"Junior."

You said it once.

"Junior"

Oh ho, getting mad now, are we?

"Indiana?" That was Sallah.

"Yes?" Indiana turned around, his eyes bright and a big smile on his face.

Sallah shifted in the saddle. "I think your father is trying to get your attention."

He turned to his father, mock innocence painted across his face. "I'm sorry, Dad, did you say my name?"

Henry closed his eyes and counted to twenty in Latin before he said anything. "How much further?"

Indiana rolled his shoulders and did some quick calculations in his head. "Hell if I know."

Marcus groaned. His horse had refused to carry him and he was switching riding behind the other three men every couple of miles. His behind had never hurt so bad. "Are you sure?"

Indiana was about to explain that really he had no idea how long it would take to get back to the city, but he was silenced by the "snick" of a hundred rifles having their safety clicked off. Each rifle was being held by a man, or possibly woman despite that being highly unlikely, in sand colored robes and face masks. Only one of them had any sort of color on him, in the form of a deep purple scarf tied around his waist. Indy guessed that this was the leader of the group.

"Dismount, strangers," ordered the man in thick English. Their small group obeyed, Marcus sliding off the horse with no grace at all and landing on his sore behind with a muffled thump. Indy helped him up, warily keeping an eye on the man who'd spoken. "Disarm yourselves." Indy removed his whip and his gun and tossed them in front of the leader's horse. He made a short barking command in their dialect and four men stepped forward and led their horses away, while another gathered up Indiana's belongings.

"Wait a moment…" Marcus had begun to protest, but staring down the barrel of a rifle silences most people. Despite his feeble attempt, the leader still snapped his attention to the scholar.

"You have an argument, old man?" He urged his horse forward until he was almost on top of a very terrified Marcus Brody.

Henry spoke up for his friend, earning a scowl from his son. "Yes we have an argument! In the past twenty four hours we've been shot at by Nazis, had to rescue Marcus here from the belly of a tank, Junior fell off a cliff, and we all almost died! And now, at the end of our ordeal, you have the audacity to come and take our horses so that we can't get back home!" Henry was practically spitting and Indy actually had to put a hand on his father's shoulder to restrain him.

"Dad, I really don't think that was a good idea." Indiana couldn't believe the stupidity of his father.

"This man is your son?" The leader directed this at Henry, his tone unreadable.

"Junior?" Henry pointed at his son. "Yes, he is. Saved my life not ten hours ago, actually." Henry was trying not to beam, much to Indy's embarrassment.

The leader was beginning to soften. "What country do you hail from that your son is called Junior?"

Indy rolled his eyes and paced off. "Well, that's his name." Henry pointed to himself, "Henry Jones," and then to Indiana, "Junior." His son grunted in frustration.

The leader nodded sagely and watched Indiana shuffle his feet in the sand. "He does not like his name, I think."

Geeze, these two were just becoming the fastest of friends, thought Indiana. "I go by Indiana, thank you," he snapped.

Henry smiled slyly and motioned for the man on the horse to lean down and whispered, "We had a dog named Indiana."

The man guffawed loudly, causing Indiana to protest, "Dad!"

The leader barked a command between bursts of laughter and the surrounding party lowered their rifles. He wiped at his face, bringing down the mask and revealing features. He was fairly handsome, strong nose, strong jaw, strong cheeks, strong in general. But all the attention was drawn to a tattoo of a raven he had on his left cheek. Something about that raven was unearthly and consequently made Indiana suspicious of their new friend. But despite his gut feeling he smiled when the man who'd taken his weapons handed them back meekly, almost shrinking from his touch and then scurrying away.

Done laughing, the handsome man spoke. "You are Americans, I can tell. I do not typically let the American pigs live, but for you Henry Jones I shall make peace and allow you to travel with us to our destination."

Marcus rubbed his hands together. "I like the sound of that, eh Indy?"

However, Indiana's eyes were trained on the tattoo. "Yeah, sounds great. And you are…"

"Azim, my friend Junior." He smirked with glee as Indiana balled up his fists. "We are heading for Alexandria. I trust you do not protest?" The question was a challenge. Indiana was tempted to protest just for the hell of it, but decided that while he was willing to be stupid when he was the only one who would suffer, Sallah had children, Henry was too old, and Marcus… well, he was Marcus.

They mounted their horses again, and Brody still had to ride behind someone because his stubborn mare was too smart to make the same mistake twice. They rode until an hour before sunset again. Indiana had a hard time grasping that it'd been about 24 hours since he'd watched Elsa drop, and the Grail shortly after. He tried not to dwell on the thought of Elsa; it didn't do her memory much honor to think of how lousy the sex had seemed in hindsight after the realization she was a Nazi. And that made him think of Lenny, who he hadn't seen in who knows how many years. Damn he missed her. He couldn't really put his finger on why, she'd never slept with him. ("You can have as much as you want when you spring for a diamond, Jones, and not a moment before.") Come to think of it, she was supposedly in Rome right now. He could have paid her a visit while in Italy if it hadn't been for a certain blonde… or his father's captivity. He decided it probably wasn't a good idea to dwell on Millennium either.

Indy looked up and was astounded to find himself in the middle of an oasis. Not a lush oasis like in the nickelodeons, but water and shade certainly made him happy. Tents were set up and fires lit as the sun dipped below the horizon, accompanied with the smell of something meaty and thick. All four mouths began to water.

"Umm, Indy, where are we sleeping?" Marcus looked around at all the tents, none of which seemed to have room for Marcus, Indiana, Sallah or Henry.

Azim walked past at that moment and smirked again. "I am afraid that we have no spare tents for you, friends. But I shall find you each a blanket and you shall sleep well." He sauntered off, oblivious to Indiana's openly hostile glare.

He turned on his father. "Some friend you've made, Dad. At this rate they won't feed us either."

Henry sighed, exasperated. "Perhaps you would like it if they'd left us alone to die, Junior."

Indiana's hand flew up and he pointed his finger at his father, wishing it to spontaneously explode in the man's face. "Stop calling me that, Henry."

Marcus chose that moment to look after getting those blankets and Sallah decided that Brody would need help, lest he get lost. Henry was shocked. Never, in all the years of hostility between Junior and himself had he ever been called by that by his son. Henry's finger flew up as well, this one wishing it could call down a torrent of pigeons on the rebellious offspring. "Don't you ever call me that again, young man!"

Indiana barked his short laugh. "I haven't heard that one in a while, _Henry_."

The elder of the two was livid now. He slapped Indiana, good and hard across the face, taking pleasure in his son's shocked expression. Indiana, however, didn't like that one bit, and punched his father good and hard. Well, violent escalation being the result of testosterone, one thing led to another and soon Henry and Indiana were brawling in the sand. Indiana almost had his father pinned when he was pulled off by his collar by a very angry looking Azim.

"If I had treated my father with such disrespect he would have shot my foot as a warning. The second time he would not have aimed so low." Azim had him pinned against the sand in a moment, hiding Indiana's burning cheeks. He was aware of a great crowd watching the proceedings and his embarrassment deepened. "Henry, I seem to have found a tent large enough for you and your two companions to sleep in. They are making themselves comfortable; perhaps you would like to join them." It was a command, not an offer.

"Er, of course." Henry walked past his son, who didn't see the worried look on his father's face.

Azim released Indy and commanded the crowd to disperse in their own tongue. He turned to Indiana, scowling. "You should not treat your father such."

"If it were your business, I'd let you know."

The two men stared at each other before Indy broke the silence. "Where'd you get the tattoo?"

Azim's nose flared for a moment, his hand flying to his cheek. "My father." He stalked away with as much poise as he could muster.

Indiana got the dregs of the stew, the majority of which were burnt, that night, and he never got a blanket. Other than a very large cobra, which was soon dispatched by a bullet in the brain, he was sleeping alone on the sand. He couldn't fall asleep though; less from the discomfort of sand being everywhere and more from the burning of his incinerated pride. It was easily around midnight when the sand around him shifted with someone else's footsteps, cautious shuffling, and then the owner of said footsteps easing themselves onto the sand with the care used only by the elderly. Indiana sighed and rolled over, putting his back to his father.

"Jun - Indiana, may I speak with you?"

Indy had to suppress an urge to childishly refuse, but Henry had used his preferred name, so he sat up, staring straight ahead.

Henry waited for his son to say something, but after a few moments of icy silence he began to speak. "Perhaps the desert heat is getting to us. After all, you haven't struck me since you were-"

"Twelve and three months," finished Indiana.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck. "That's not important. What I mean to say –"

Indiana turned his glare on his father. "That's not important? Dad, you ruled with an iron fist until the day I left!"

Henry sighed. "Would you please stop interrupting me? I'm trying to apologize."

Indiana folded his arms over his knees and looked ahead again. "Apology accepted."

Henry counted to twenty in Latin again. "Don't be childish."

Stony silence.

"Azim should not have intervened. And he certainly should not have made a spectacle of degrading you. I'm very sorry."

More silence.

"Indiana."

Indy smiled. "Kay, Dad."

(Insert break here)

The sun was almost past the horizon. "Grandpa Henry would call Indy 'Junior' to make us giggle every now and then, and once I asked him why and he told me that story. Of course, Grandpa's story was a little different." She smiled, not looking at Henry but instead focusing on the sunset.

"Grandpa Henry?" He was writing things down every now and then, but as she'd gotten further into the story he had eventually just put the pencil down.

"He never got real grandchildren so he had to make due with Peter and eventually me"

"He was your husband, right?"

She nodded. "Named after his father who was named after his father and so on and so forth. You know, Indiana should have been 'Grandpa' and Henry should have been "Great grandpa.'" She paused. "I think it made them feel younger."

Henry didn't know what to say to this. Nervously, he looked at his watched and was surprised by how late it was. "Perhaps, if it's not too much trouble, I could come back again next Saturday? It's getting kinda late…" He ended lamely.

She snapped back to attention and glanced at her own watch and then at the setting sun. "Of course."

He stood up. "Well, until next week, Mrs. Vander."

She stood up as well, and surprisingly stuck out her hand. He took it tentatively. "Call me Maura."

He nodded. "Maura. I'll see you next week, Maura."

She smiled weakly. Unsure of himself, he walked out the gate.

Maura watched him go, then put the weed whacker back in the garage. She'd finish tomorrow. Inside her house she turned the TV on and began to make dinner. Her mind wasn't really on the task, but on the ending of the story she'd only partially told Henry.

(Insert break here)

"Time to go, Dr. Jones." A small toe nudged Indiana in the ribs. He rolled over and recognized the man who'd taken and then returned his weapons the previous day. On closer inspection, in addition to the light voice, the person was obviously a woman. And he knew that voice.

"How'd you know I'm a doctor?" He asked, watching her eyes widen as she was caught.

"You are not?" Her accent changed slightly. She sounded more like a native instead of the usual American with a foreign taint.

He sat up and pulled her down to eye level. She didn't resist. "And why are you wearing a mask?" He raised a hand to bring down her face covering, but she grabbed his wrist lightning quick.

"Don't."

"Lenny?" She stood up.

"It is time to go, Dr. Jones." She left, quickly losing her small frame in the mess of horses that were milling around as their owners packed their saddles.

"Who was that?" Dr. Jones Sr. came up behind his son and offered him a handful of dried fruit.

He absentmindedly gnawed on date and shook his head. Marcus and Sallah followed, both looking bleary but rested enough. Someone brought them their horses; Marcus's, being in a much better mood after having been fed, allowed him to ride today. They set off soon enough, and as they all fell into formation Indy brought his mount up to Sallah's.

"You said you once worked for Millennium Cage, right?"

Sallah furrowed his brow. "The woman doctor? Indiana, that was in nineteen thirty-six."

"I think she's one of these bandits." Sallah scanned the group. He found a particularly feminine figure a little ways in front of them and pointed silently. "Yeah, I think so. She won't talk to me."

Marcus, by some good stroke of luck, had managed to bring his horse behind Indiana's. "You think Dr. Cage is here? Good gracious, Indy, why would she be in Alexandria?"

"I don't, but it's possible. She said she was leaving for a dig about three years ago; who knows where it could have taken her." Indiana knew that the odds were virtually nil; but he _really_ missed Lenny, he wanted her to be here.

"Who?" Henry had come up as well.

"Come now Indy, that dig was in Italy." Marcus scoffed.

"We were in Italy just a few days ago," Indiana pointed out.

"Who?" Henry asked again.

"Italy? That's where the Nazis are! She's most likely in prison or dead!" Sallah muttered.

"That's Berlin, Sallah." Marcus shook his head

"Who?" Henry was losing patience.

Indiana shot him a hard glare. "Don't say that."

Marcus nodded. "But he has a point. When was the last time she wrote you?"

Indiana was silent. It'd been well over ten months.

"Who, damnit!" Henry almost shouted.

"Keep your voice down, Dad!"

"Junior…"

"She's a friend. I helped her get out of some trouble a few years ago in Jerusalem."

"And they've been seeing each other on and off ever since," piped in Marcus.

"But you slept with Elsa!" Henry was appalled.

His son blushed furiously. "In my defense, I haven't heard from her in almost a year."

"From who?" Azim appeared out of nowhere, startling the daylights out of the foursome.

"A friend." Indiana was the first to recover.

He cocked an eyebrow. To save his son, Henry quickly asked, "Does you tattoo mean anything, Azim?"

He touched his cheek and was quiet for a minute before answering. "Most of my men have it. In less obvious places, of course. A raven is most often times a sign of ill news, and as bandits the symbol seems appropriate."

"You said your father gave it to you." Indiana's suspicions were brought to mind again. Something about that raven was familiar.

He nodded at Indiana. "He did; it was his idea." He urged his horse forward toward the person they'd figured was Lenny. They had a conversation that quickly became heated, the female speaking furiously in their strange dialect. She raised her wrist and yanked her sleeve up. Indiana was shocked to see an identical raven tattoo. She said something else and Azim raised a hand to hit her, but she caught it before he could strike. She whispered something, and he nodded, subdued. He took his place at the front of the group, and that was the end of the excitement for a long time.

About three in the afternoon the group stopped at the base of some hills. Azim approached the four, the woman following behind. "We are stopping here. The city of Alexandria is an hour's ride from here, I'll send you with a guide." He seemed sullen, like a child forced to share a toy.

"Thank you very much for your help, Azim." Henry bowed in the saddle.

Azim nodded in return. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, friend Henry. I ask that our paths will cross once more." He nodded to the other three as he said this, then nudged his horse back to the main group.

The woman, who was apparently their guide, motioned them to follow and began to move.

"I'm sorry if I caused you some trouble this morning," called Indy, pushing his horse to catch up with hers.

She didn't say anything. And she continued to say nothing until she seemed to be certain they were well away from the bandits, a good half an hour at least. Then she launched herself at Indy, knocking him off his horse and onto the sand. He had the breath knocked out of him, and found that he couldn't regain it properly because there was a pair of chapped lips pressing themselves against his mouth. He made a cross between a squeak and a grunt and the lips moved and began showering his faces with quick little kisses. When his heart had stopped drumming like a hummingbird's wings he focused his gazed and discovered an elated Millennium Cage was sitting on his chest. His brain turned off for a second, then he pulled her face down again for one more sandy kiss.

"What are you doing here!" She cried, excitement oozing out her every pore.

"What am I – I thought you were in Rome!" He pushed her off his chest and held her out at arm's length, examining her. A year had been too much. Her bright brown eyes were scarred somehow, despite all the joy; her hair that had once reached to her waist was chopped to her shoulders; and most of all there was the tattoo of the raven on her wrist. Thinking of it he pulled her arm up and pushed back the sleeve. The smile faded from her face.

"What's this?"

She pursed her lips for a second. "It's a long story."

Henry made a coughing noise.

"Oh, Millennium, this is my father, Henry Jones." Indiana pulled her up, and with a hand on her waist guided her to his father's horse.

"Dr. Jones, I remember you! How are the Grail studies coming?" She cheerfully shook his hand.

Confused, Henry looked at Indiana. "They actually just concluded. I'm sorry, I don't…"

"I tutored her in high school. History." Indiana looked at his feet.

Recognition dawned on his father's face. "Oh yes, you were the girl who always drank all our milk."

"Dad!"

Lenny blushed, and nodded at Sallah and Marcus, both of whom were smiling nervously at her.

She mounted her horse again, and they began again, Indiana left to mount and catch up. "What do you mean your studies have just concluded?"

"Well, we found it," Henry stated matter-of-factly.

"The Holy Grail?"

Indiana beamed. "Yup, we found it."

She blinked. "You - you found it? Where is it?"

Silence. Marcus coughed. Sallah had to answer. "It fell down a hole."

Lenny stared at him, then at Indiana. "You dropped the Holy Grail down a hole?"

"It's a long story."

She gestured to the sand in front of them. "We've got time."

(Insert break here)

Maura smiled, remembering when Millennium had told her that story on her wedding day to calm down her bride-nerves. Later, at the reception, she took Uncle Indy aside and asked for his version of the story. She was shocked at how they'd told it the same down to the littlest detail, and remembered wondering how two people could be so alike that even their thoughts coincided. She'd once voiced her concern that she and Peter argued much more than Lenny and Indy and the great aunt had just laughed. "Honey, when you and Peter get as old as us, you're going to figure out that there isn't much worth seriously arguing over." She'd thought about it, and it certainly explained why all their argument were merely theatrics to entertain themselves. Unfortunately she and Peter never reached that point in their marriage.

Maura served herself from the pot, then settled in the den and pulled out an old photograph. She stared at it for a long time, forgetting her dinner. As her dinner grew cold, she thought of all the Henrys she'd know and rubbed at the raven tattoo on her ankle.

Now, maybe it's just me, but I think those ravens are important. Please Review! if you want to know what happens


	2. Secret Teaser

Hello, faithful readers! Those of you who followed my little goose chase get a prize! Not sure what the prize is... but nevermind that. Here's your teaser for "Secret," my next chapter in what I'm now thinking of as the "Creepy Raven Saga" Please feel free to guess the plot. Who knows, maybe your guess will be right!

One last thing: In case you aren't history savy, this takes place in 1939, one year after Last Crusade. Although the movies never make mention of it, the country was deep in the clutches of The Great Depression at the time.

* * *

Lenny rubbed her wrist absentmindedly. He was late. All she could think of was of the million of little things that had gone wrong, and why she couldn't be there. The transcript that Azim had given her when she had left his little band lay untouched on her desk. She was supposed to be translating it into their language so that no one else could find the Plates of Solomon. But she was too fidgety. Outside the door, Sara's phone rang. She crossed her fingers, praying it would be him.

"Calm down." She jumped a foot, but it was only Sara. "Dr. Jones wants to talk to you."

Lenny rubbed her wrist again, but thinking of Indy made her aware of the movement and she stopped. Resolutely, she marched to the phone and picked the receiver off Sara's desk. "How may I help you?"

"Don't sound so happy to hear from me, I might not think you care." It had been a few months since Indiana and Millennium had found each other _again_. It could be argued that fate was damned if it would let them be apart, but as Indy pulled closer, she pulled farther and farther away. "How does lunch sound?"

"Like a noun in the English language." She wasn't in the mood for his hurt looks right now.

He was silent for a beat. "Something's bothering you."

"No. Is not." Her syllables were punctuated and sharp, telling him to drop it.

Silent again for another beat. "Peter's first day of school was today. He'll be fine, don't worry. He's a smart kid."

She sucked her cheeks in. "Indy, something _is_ bothering me." Lenny was suddenly very irritable.

"What is it?"

"You're bugging me, _Henry_." She placed a special emphasis on his given name. Even as she did it, she felt awful… but it was his own fault for catching her in a bad mood.

Nothing came over the receiver, and then there was the audible click of the phone being put down.

"Someone to see you, your moodiness." Sara rounded the corner of the hall, and had obviously been listening. Lenny was about to bark at the new comer to go away, but her nephew rounded the corner.

"Oh lord, Peter!" She wrapped her arms around the boy as if he'd narrowly escaped death.

"Uh… hi, Aunt Lenny." He patted her back awkwardly. "Something up?"

She released him suddenly, aware of how strange she was acting. "I… How was school?"

He messed up his face, examining her. "It was fine."

"Tell me about it! Would you like a Coke? Let's go get Cokes."

"I don't think I could…"

She grabbed her clutch and hat and began to pull him out the door. "Oh, it's no a big deal. My treat!"

She was acting strange. "Auntie," he pleaded with the name he'd called her as a boy, "I don't want to go out. I didn't go to school today."

Her face fell. "Why not?"

"My dad lost his job."

She grabbed her wrist and gave it a tired twist. It wasn't a surprise, really. FDR was doing the best he could, but things were still hard, especially for unskilled workers like Peter's father. She felt bad, she'd been away during the crash and most of her assets had been with her. When she came back, she'd been virtually unaffected. Worse still, Peter's family had refused her help until she insisted she pay for his education.

"So you were looking for work." It wasn't a question.

"Do your parents know?"

He shook his head. He was 15, and getting ever stronger, but tears began to well up.

"Peter, I want you to go to school."

"Me too," he whispered.

"Your parents don't want any more charity from me, do they." Again, not a question.

Peter became bitter. "It killed them letting you pay for my school fees. If you were to even so much as _suggest_ you help us more… They wouldn't like it. We've at least got a house, and that's enough to keep them so full up on pride they don't notice the icebox is empty." Millennium squeezed her wrist again, but this time Peter pulled her hand away. "Don't do that, please."

She looked at her nephew. He was so proud, just like his parents. He didn't want her charity either. He reminded her of Indiana. "Dr. Jones called me again. I told him he was bugging me and he hung up the phone."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Lord, Lenny. He's crazy for you, but you keep pushing him away. You're afraid of commitment."

The kid was right. "Why, thank you Freud."

* * *

Indiana was fuming. Hurt, although he wasn't going to let anyone know, and livid.

His father was home, as was manifested by a large stack of books deposited on the kitchen counter. He was only staying with Indiana until his house had been put back in proper order. His father also had company. Still feeling putrid, Indiana didn't enter the kitchen where Henry Sr. was entertaining guests, but slumped silently again the wall, hoping to derive some small pleasure from the conversation.

"No, Indiana won't be home until late tonight. He's got term papers that need grading. Marcus tells me he's surprised he's stayed long enough to have anything to grade. He's so busy traveling, it seems, that this house was almost worse than mine when we came back." Indiana's first thought was an affair. Not that it would be an affair, since his mother was deceased, but nonetheless it was the word that came to mind.

But then the guest spoke. "Why's he stayed put so long?"

Indiana's stomach dropped. It was Lenny.

* * *

Confession time: I've hit a creative brick wall. Those guesses about plot? As unprofessional as it is, those guesses will be suggestions. So please, yell, scream, suggest, do as you please, just feedback in general is asked for at this time 


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